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Steve expects a sudden change in dynamics but, for better or worse, they never come. Obviously there are some exciting new things, but their relationship remains largely the same, even now that Javi is no longer just his partner. This calms him down because he recognizes he's never been good with abrupt changes, and nothing stresses him more than the thought of suddenly having to get used to a brand new way of living with his brand new boyfriend.
They continue to meet up for drinks like they've been doing from the beginning, but now they usually end up kissing or taking off their clothes. They never go further than that and although it surprises him at first, because they are both adults accustomed to having active sexual lives, he doesn't have much to complain about, at least not when he has these moments.
It's dark outside, and he unbuttons his shirt to complete the next step of the ritual he and Javier created for each night they spend together, which, coincidentally, tends to be most of the week. Today is Friday, and he's especially happy when he remembers that they can go to work later on Saturdays, because it means he has more time on the peaceful cloud he's felt himself floating on since they started dating a few weeks ago.
"Lay down for me, mhm?" Javier murmurs as he fetches some beer from the kitchen. He unfastens his belt and obeys, feeling the softness of the sheets against his bare abdomen and closing his eyes to focus more fully on his surroundings.
He parts his lips when he hears his boyfriend approaching him again, and lets out a sigh of relief when he feels him place a lit cigarette in his mouth. Guiding himself purely by his hearing, he notices Javier wandering around his apartment (and there's something so mundane and domestic about the way he moves that brings a smile to his face); he recognizes that he's going to turn on the radio, then hears him return and the bed dips beside him as he leans his weight on it.
"Tell me if it hurts," Steve nods, as he always does, but he knows Javier is hyperaware of his movements and that there's not the slightest chance he'll get hurt, not even by mistake.
The dark-haired man's hands rest on his shoulder blades, beginning their motion with just the right amount of pressure to gain a satisfied grunt from him.
Steve doesn't know since when he's loved massages this much, if he likes them in the first place, or if he just enjoys them because he's hopelessly in love with the man giving them. Whatever the reason may be, their effect is immediate, and he swears he can feel his muscles relaxing one by one as Javier's palms explore them.
His hands are large and rough, and he's so aware of their touch that he thinks, if he had to describe them, he could tell where he had scars or marks even without seeing them. Javier is apparently a master at touching him, and as he moves down the sides of his waist, Steve has to stop himself from moaning with pleasure. It's not even a sexual touch; it's not charged with that intention on either of their parts, but at the same time, he feels much warmer and more content than he ever has.
"You're so pretty..." the man's voice pulls him out of his bubble a little so he turns his head to look at him through half-lidded eyes and a mocking expression. Javier literally bursts out laughing, still holding his hands against his lower back, squeezing his thumbs in a movement so precise and delicate that it has Steve feeling oh so high once again.
"Fuck off, Javi," is all he can force himself to reply before burying his face back in the pillow and stretching out a little. He exhales deeply, noticing the way his boyfriend's fingers play with his belt loops, and just as he's about to say something about it, the sensation of lips pressed against the base of his neck makes his breath catch in his throat. "Hey... that's not fair..."
His voice betrays him, hinting at how easily to provoke he is, and he can practically hear the smile on the man's face even though he's turned away and can't see him. For a second he's afraid Javier will continue, because if he doesn't put the brakes on, Steve knows he won't be able to stop himself either, and that's another boundary he doesn't feel ready to overcome yet.
Perhaps Javier's a mind reader—or Steve just too easy to read—because he instantly moves his hands back up, returning to his initial task of relaxing his muscles and preparing him for sleep instead of exciting him even more.
The next few minutes are spent in silence and Steve breathes calmly, with a small, unconscious smile on his face. He exhales the smoke lazily, half awake, half asleep.
In the initial seconds the sound registers in his head, he's sure he's fallen asleep and is dreaming, that the calm voice reaching him is that of his guardian angel. Later, upon closer inspection, he realizes it's simply Javier humming a song in Spanish, and he really wants to laugh because in his mind pops the thought that, in some ways, Javi actually is his angel. He decides against it and stays silent, listening carefully to the sounds his boyfriend shows him, imprinting each new timbre of his voice into his memory so he can repeat them over and over again.
It's the first time he's heard him sing, and he theorizes that Javier is doing it simply because he thinks he's fast asleep. His suspicions are confirmed almost instantly, because the man stills his hands—now resting in the hollows of his shoulders—and murmurs something so softly that Steve almost doesn't hear it.
"Te quiero tanto, Steve...dios," he almost doesn't hear him but he does, and he's never been so grateful that Connie had forced him to watch romantic movies as he's at this moment, because he understands Javier's words as if he'd spoken them in the most fluent English. He wants to say something to him, to answer him, to reassure him that he loves him too, he wants to kiss him so hard it'll bruise him inside and out. But at the same time he's still afraid of breaking the moment if he moves abruptly, so he forces his entire body to stay still, and prays to God he's not blushing from the gigantic display of affection he's just received.
Javier resumes his work as if nothing had happened, still humming the song playing in the background on the radio, and suddenly, to Steve, the task of staying still seems like the worst torture in the world.
"Mmm... what are you singing?" he whispers in his best fake-asleep voice, stretching out and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, "Didn't know you were good at that too..."
Javier ignores the compliment with a chuckle and answers while stroking his hair in such an affectionate way that it almost has him purring.
"It's an Argentinian song, a tango. I learned it a while ago... Do you like it?" and although Steve doesn't really have an opinion on the matter—because he doesn't understand the lyrics and is too distracted by his boyfriend to even register the melody—he finds himself nodding in a perhaps too effusive way. He hopes Javier doesn't see through his white lie, and apparently he doesn't, because he continues speaking in the same gentle tone and adds, "I really like it... wanna know a fun fact? I also learned how to dance these types of songs."
The words sound like music to his ears, and he doesn't even have the thought of suppressing the squeal of surprise that comes out of his mouth. He sits up almost instantly, making Javier snort, who crosses his arms defensively over his chest.
"Fuck off, don't be like that. It's not nice to laugh at your boyfriend's past," Javier says, and Steve shakes his head, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, one the other doesn't deny but receives with a slight frown.
"Laugh? I was about to tell you to teach me," he confesses, this time laughing a little when his boyfriend's face undisguisedly shows the emotion that floods him.
"Really? Are you sure? It's not that easy, Steve," now it's his turn to snort at Javier's response, because how difficult can a dance be? He extends his arm, and his partner understands the gesture and gives him a handshake to seal the unspoken bet he's just entered into.
Javier moves some furniture around as if he were at his home, and as he watches him from his bedroom, Steve thinks he'd love to live with him one day, have a little house just for the two of them, and wake up every morning under the same sheets.
When he calls him, he gets up and goes with him to the living room. He allows himself to glance at his boyfriend's body without even trying to hide the hunger behind his gaze. He watches as the man places his hands on his hips, adjusting his pants. He watches the way the muscles in Javier's naked torso flex when he breathes, when he walks toward him, when he reaches out to pull him closer.
"So, how does this work, Javi?" he asks, his eyes fixed on his boyfriend's face as he plants a hand on his waist in a way that makes him laugh. "Fuck no, am I gonna be the woman?"
Javier doesn't respond immediately and just buries his head in the crook of his shoulder, effectively silencing Steve's complaints.
"We can both be the man, you know that," and although he wants to respond with something sarcastic, he realizes he can't speak because he suspects that, if he opens his mouth, what will come out will be an instinctive noise instead of words, so he just nods and lets his boyfriend continue, "Copy my movements and you'll be fine."
He does exactly that and, for a few minutes, he thinks he's not doing so badly. Obviously, he's overshadowed by how insanely good Javier ends up being at dancing, and he wonders who taught him and why he had to do it, but it doesn't occur to him—or he doesn't dare—to actually ask the question.
The radio plays song after song and Javier, too excited to notice, guides him on a rhythm that's a little faster than what he can keep up with; he ends up stepping on him more than once and almost tripping a couple times. Between all the spinning they're doing, how focused he is, and especially how unused he is to dancing in general, Steve feels himself slowly starting to get dizzy.
He tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his head and stomach, but at one point he can't hide it anymore and rests his forehead against Javier's neck, who puts an instant stop to the dance session.
"Oh? What's wrong?" He almost doesn't hear the question because everything is spinning around him, but he manages to murmur a 'just a bit dizzy' in response, one that makes Javier involuntarily tighten his grip on his waist as he sighs, "Shit... I got a bit carried away."
He doesn't feel so bad anymore, but Steve still doesn't move; he can't find the resolve to do so when he's being held so carefully. Taking advantage of the innate protective nature he knows Javier has, he leans more of his weight against his chest. He lets his hands rest on his boyfriend's lower back, his eyes still closed and his head buried between his shoulder and neck.
For a few minutes they stand there and, since neither of them says anything, the silence is only interrupted by the radio and the songs that continue to play.
He feels Javier take a step back and crouch down, but in the second it takes him to open his eyes and try to say something, he doesn't even get to complain when he feels his feet leave the ground, and suddenly finds himself in his boyfriend's arms.
"Wh- Javi!" Although the movement takes him by surprise, the gesture of wrapping his arms around Javier's neck comes almost instinctively to him. Still, although he could get down but isn't, he groans, "I'm not a kid, put me down."
"Shh..." he hears the response in his ear and, as if to emphasize his words, Javier tightens his grip on him again. For a second, Steve feels incredibly embarrassed by the vulnerable position he's in—who would've thought one of the DEA's most important agents would find himself bridal-style in another man's arms?—but at the same time, he's surprised by how comfortable he feels. He's been experiencing a lot of new things that would normally make him anxious, but it seems to him that as long as Javi's by his side, he can take on the world.
He assumes the man isn't going to put him down when he starts walking toward his room, so he resigns himself to going with the flow and places an appreciative kiss on the side of Javier's neck. Javier flops down on the bed and finally lets go, so Steve rolls over to his side, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look at him.
"What was that about?" he asks, just to fill the silence, tracing the other man's collarbone with his free hand's fingers.
"Mhm? Oh, I just like taking care of you," and it's not even an explanation per se, nor anything particularly profound, but the way Javier says it makes him feel dizzy again, although this time it's a pleasant sensation, "Why are you looking at me like that, huh?"
Steve deduces the expression he's looking at him with when Javier's question registers in his head, because his colleagues have made him aware of the stupid face he makes, without realizing it, when it comes to Javier.
And how could he not make it at this moment when the man is looking at him, half-naked and somewhat agitated, lying in—his!—bed?
How could he look at him any other way when his brown eyes focus on him, with such a soft expression and an almost palpable affection?
How could he make any other face when he reaches out to caress his cheek and smiles at him?
How could he not have fallen in love, not be falling harder and harder, when Javier's simply too good for and with him?
"You're..." he begins, but so many possible adjectives for that sentence spring to his mind that he ends up saying nothing, earning a confused expression from Javier. It's not the first time he's thought this, but he's surprised by the duality of the man in front of him.
Anyone could describe Javier in several ways. Sarcastic, acidic, brave, intelligent, confident, rude; and they wouldn't be lying to you, Javier really is all of those things.
But there's also another side, one that Steve is gradually getting to know more about, and it seems incomprehensible to him how two opposite poles of a person can coexist like Javier's do.
Although Javier is a bit rude and doesn't seem able to say more than two words without making an ironic remark, he always makes sure not to offend him with his jokes.
Although his style has always been to just take the plunge, when it comes to Steve's well-being he becomes so cautious that it sometimes bothers him.
Although he's rough and confident in everything he does, if he's involved you'll notice how delicate he becomes, how he hesitates before every action, every touch.
He thinks this side is private, visible only to him, and the bubbling warm feeling this elicits in his chest seems a little childish. It makes him proud, in equal measure, because he must've done something right to get him to open up, to make him feel safe enough to reveal parts of himself he doesn't normally show so easily.
"You're so sweet for me, love," Steve finishes, and the petname falls from his lips with a naturalness—like everything else these days—that thrills him. He can see the effect his words have on his boyfriend automatically, because he opens and closes his mouth as if to respond but doesn't, and it makes him want to laugh again, "Ow... Don't tell me you like praise like that?"
Getting to know Javier more deeply is his favorite pastime, and this is reaffirmed when the man nods almost imperceptibly.
Steve stretches out a little further against him, until he's lying on top of him. Since he's taller and heavier, he expects to hear at least a complaint, but it never reaches his ears. He allows himself to rub against him, bury his head in his neck and breathe in his scent, and Javier is so quiet and still that for a second he doesn't know if he's enjoying it or finds it unbearable.
"You should let me protect you sometimes..." Steve murmurs against the warm skin of the man beneath him, letting his hands trail down his sides and reveling in the shaky breaths he lets out, ones that make clear to him the answer to his previous question: Javier is enjoying this.
He pulls back just enough to see his face, and when he does he curses not having a camera and not being able to photograph what he considers to be the most beautiful expression on the most beautiful man in the world. He wants to capture every detail of every opportunity he has to see him up close, but he can't find the willpower to break the eye contact Javier's eyes are offering him. The intensity, the desire, the love with which he looks at him drives him crazy, and he finds himself mumbling more and more praise and compliments as if Javier were a God and he were his most devoted follower. Mentally, he kneels and looks up to the sky; he prays for much more time, for many more moments like this, and his boyfriend -who in his head is both his God and his angel, and also the motive behind all his prayers-, grants his wish. He allows him to spend more days like this, in which they don't really do anything special but, at the same time, are more than enough to keep Steve alive and positive when things get tough in his life.
He doesn't register what he's saying but he keeps talking and his words keep working, because it doesn't take long for Javier to be completely red-faced and laughing with a nervousness that Steve recognizes is actually shyness. He decides to finally leave him alone and, with a smile, he rolls over once more to lie face up beside him.
"Love? Is that really the petname I'm getting?" the ironic Javier reappears and Steve laughs, because it's the first thing he's said in like fifteen minutes, and he doesn't sound at all angry about it.
"Huh? I should be the one complaining. You only started calling me by my name a couple of weeks ago," he says, eyeing him from the side and meeting his boyfriend's gaze, who apparently got there first, "And love is pretty good. It suits you."
Javier doesn't respond, but Steve sees the way he smiles and knows what he's going to do even before he makes a move. Suddenly, he's on top of him, and the pressure his arms exert around his torso makes his laughter sound a bit strangled.
"What should I call you then, Steve?" he asks, still holding him in the embrace he's trapped in, and he doesn't even get to think about the possibilities before Javier speaks again, "Babe, sweetie, sweetheart, honey...uhm..."
The correct answer suddenly pops up in Steve's brain, and he whispers it in his ear with an innocent smile.
"But that isn't romantic, Steve. Pobrecito is not a petname, there's no way I'm calling you 'poor thing,'" and Steve snorts at his boyfriend's outright refusal, who frowns at him in obvious disapproval of his idea.
They argue about it for a few more minutes and, since after going through about ten different nicknames they still come up empty-handed, they end up deciding that 'Steve' and 'Javi' are just fine. Javier enthusiastically approves of the 'love' option, and the practically blatant eagerness he displays has Steve wondering when and how he'll take advantage of its effect on him.
"You didn't get your massage today, shit," Steve adds a good while later, when their playful argument has calmed down and they're just lying there talking about stupid things, "Let go, I'll do it quickly."
But Javier doesn't let go; on the contrary, he pulls him closer until his head is practically pressed against his chest.
"I'm relaxed enough. I guess you could say that's the effect you have on me," Javier replies, and Steve feels the vibrations of his voice through his skin. He murmurs a complaint without much effort, and his boyfriend laughs but seems to consider it, at least for a second, because he adds, "If you insist..."
And Steve perks up his ears like a dog, attentive to his owner's command, and when he hears the words he laughs so hard he knows the whole building heard him, and that his cheeks are surely going to hurt tomorrow.
"Suuure Javi, you can be the little spoon tonight."